


Before the Hardest Part

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: The first time that Zevran receives a pair of Dalish gloves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first day of Zevran Week!!

The children all stay in the backroom when the customers come.  The brothel owner puts them to work, cleaning clothing and bedding.  It makes his hands hurt and skin chafe, but Zevran works diligently anyway because it’s better than being hit.

It could be much worse, he knows this, but sometimes he sneaks out during work hours anyway.  He likes to steal out of the pockets of the very wealthy.  It doesn’t seem fair, somehow.  There are people with so much they barely miss it, while he and the other whore-children sleep on the floor or sharing beds.  

Zevran steals enough to buy a pretty ring from a dirty shop.  It sparkles nicely in the sun, and he secrets it away in his pocket.  He gives the rest of the coins to one of the older children so she doesn’t tell the brothel owner that he was gone.  She’s supposed to watch them, but as long as he doesn’t do it too often and brings a bribe, she doesn’t mind if he slips away.

He works for the rest of the afternoon, cleaning linens.  Strange noises come from the rest of the building.  Some of them sound like pleasure sounds, but others sound like pain.  Zevran tries not to think about it.  

* * *

Most of the women have two names- one for the customers and one for themselves.  But most of them also let the whore-children call them Mama.  So they all have a lot of Mothers, which is better than having no mother.

Of course, they don’t all get along and they all play favorites.  Zevran’s favorite Mama is a tall elven woman.  Her hair falls in giant brown ringlets, and no matter how tired she is, she still has a smile for Zevran.  

“I brought you a present!” Zevran says when the working day is done.  

“Come here, my darling,” Mama says, pulling him up into her ample lap.  “I would tell you more stories of your mother for free, you know.”

“I know!” Zevran says.  “But it’s pretty and reminds me of you!”

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Mama coos, and Zevran glows under the praise.  “You’re such a good boy.”

“I know,” Zevran says with a laugh.  

Mama laughs, too.  “Don’t let the world crush that happy spirit of yours.  You’re a gift to the world, and don’t forget it.”

Zevran slides the ring onto her finger.  “I won’t!  Promise.”

“Good,” Mama says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  “You know what?  I have a present for you today.”

“Really?” Zevran perks up.  

Mama sits him on the couch beside her before getting up.  She leaves the room and Zevran waits, kicking his leg back and forth.  He watches as the other women and children come through, talking and running and playing.  

When Mama comes back, she has an old pair of gloves.  There’s beading, but some of the beads are missing.  Zevran’s not sure why Mama is presenting them to him with a grin on her face, but he takes them gratefully.  

“These were your mother’s.  I’ve told you about how she was Dalish, yes?  This is one of the few things from her clan that she brought with her.  When she died, I took them to give to you,” Mama says.  “I think that you’re old enough to take care of them, now.”

“Thank you,” Zevran says with more than a little awe.  “I will keep these very safe.”

He’s never really had anything of his mother’s- other than his hair, or so he’s been told.  Truthfully, he never thought he’d have anything other than stories, but now he has something of hers that he can hold onto.  

“Thank you,” Zevran repeats.

“Come, come, and I’ll tell you more about her,” Mama says, pulling him back into her lap.  

Zevran slides the gloves onto his hands as he listens intently.  They’re far too big, but Zevran likes how they feel against his skin, and he admires how the beading shimmers in the firelight.


End file.
